


Nearly Witches (Or, The One Where Brendon Wants a Guillotine)

by ChibiCorgi (MerryCorgis)



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Alcohol, Gen, PATDCC, vices era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-28
Updated: 2017-05-28
Packaged: 2018-11-06 03:23:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11027583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MerryCorgis/pseuds/ChibiCorgi
Summary: It's not Brendon's fault that Ryan's lyrics are open to interpretation.





	Nearly Witches (Or, The One Where Brendon Wants a Guillotine)

**Author's Note:**

> For the PATD Creative Challenge, May 2017! My prompt was "here I am composing a burlesque/out of they rest their necks". I was inspired by some lyric theories and kind of just... rolled with it. 
> 
> Many thanks to rosie-little-sister and blowingthingsupisfunny on Tumblr for their support and suggestions!

“You want to have a _guillotine_ on stage.” Spencer pulled a hand through his hair. When Brendon invited him over to have a few drinks and talk about the upcoming tour, this was _not_ what he was expecting.

Brendon stared him down, oddly serious. “Yes.”

“For _one line_ \--”

“--Look, if you have a better interpretation of ‘out of where they rest their necks’, feel free to tell me.” Brendon downed the rest of his beer and added the empty bottle to the small, growing collection on the coffee table.

Spencer groaned in frustration, his grip tight on his half-finished bottle. “I’m sure Ryan knows, why don’t you just ask him?”

Brendon stilled, shoulders tense, keeping his eyes on the brown bottles in front of him. “Anyways,” he said, his voice strained, “I was thinking we could have a fake body set up in it, and the head could be a pinata or whatever. And when the blade drops, the head could roll near me, and I’d kick it into the crowd so they can have candy or some shit.”

Spencer considered this as he tore up the paper label on his bottle. “B,” he said, careful to keep his tone even, “how the fuck are we going to get something like that across the border?”

Brendon dismissed him with a wave of his hand. “So we cancel the Toronto show, then. Or we scrap the guillotine for that show.” He finally cracked a smile. “We’ll make it work.”

Spencer couldn’t help but smile back. “Unless Zack vetoes it, like the time you suggested that you should get set on fire as part of the encore.”

“That was a _great_ plan,” Brendon cried, “it totally fit the circus theme. Besides, Zack loves me too much to say no.”

***

Zack said no, to no one’s surprise. The tour went on, guillotine-less.

That didn’t stop Brendon from draping himself across Spencer’s lap like a particularly mopey throw blanket after their first sound check. “Spencer,” he said, “my heart is broken.”

Spencer resigned himself to running a hand through Brendon’s hair. Experience told him that he’d be sitting here a while.

“I can’t believe he said _no_ ,” Brendon whined, “there was nothing wrong with the guillotine.”

“There was everything wrong with the guillotine,” Dallon said, from the safety of the other end of the dressing room.

Brendon jabbed Spencer in the stomach. “Spencer, fire him for me.” 

Spencer cast Dallon a sympathetic glance. “Do you mind waiting on the bus? Bren has some sour gummies hidden in the kitchen.” He smiled, despite Brendon’s elbow digging into his side at the mention of the gummies. “Back of the bottom shelf, behind the Shreddies. Help yourself.” 

Dallon was quick to leave after catching Brendon’s glare.

“Can I have some gummies, too?” Ian piped up from his perch at the snack table.

“ _No_ , what the fuck,” Brendon twisted to face Ian. “You’re all awful. Pass me a beer.”

Ian obliged, tossing a can to Brendon. “Can I have some gummies if I let you kick me into the crowd tonight?” There was an eager glint in his eyes.

Brendon looked a bit too devious for Spencer’s liking. Spencer flicked his ear. “ _Don’t_. No one’s getting kicked off stage tonight.”

Brendon winced and cracked open his beer. “You’re no fun, Spencer Smith.”

Ian hummed his agreement.

Spencer scrubbed a hand across his face with a sigh. “How about we just get a pinata and you can kick that off stage tonight? We can even paint it to look like Zack.”

Brendon sat up to beam at Spencer. “I knew I kept you around for a reason.” He planted a sloppy kiss to Spencer’s cheek and hopped to his feet. “You wanna help me pick out Zack Junior?”

Spencer had never been in any position to say no to Brendon, anyways.


End file.
